


Retrofit

by TheRedWulf



Series: Jaimsa One Shots [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jaimsa, Modeling, Modern Era, Pinup!Sansa, Retro, pinup, vintage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 02:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Modern - In which architect Jaime finds his perfect housewife...Picset is viewableHERE





	Retrofit

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stay away from Jaimsa one shots. Sorry. Not sorry. 
> 
> I have maxed out the rating, for reasons.  
For the 100th time I don't consider myself a writer. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“You don’t have much of a choice, Jaime” Bronn reasoned, following behind him as they paced through the Lannister Architecture Offices. 

“Apparently not” Jaime said dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“The Digest wants to feature your house, hells you bought the most prolific mid-century wreck in the city and rebuilt the entire thing” Bronn explained. “You’ve spent a great deal of time and money on that and---”

“It was time and money for myself, my own escape, not for publicity” Jaime interrupted. 

“Which makes it all the more the ‘ungettable get’,”Bronn replied. “Give them a day, they bring a model, snap a few photos and then they move on.”

“They want mid-century” Jaime paused, the gears in his mind moving now. “Fine, I will do it.”

“Thank the Gods!”

“If--” Jaime smirked. 

“If?”

“I want Sansa Stark” Jaime raised a challenging brow. “No other model, just her. Only her.”

“Jaime” Bronn frowned deeply. “She is much too famous for---”

“Her or no shoot” Jaime cut him off. “If I have to let a woman in to my escape, it will be one I chose.”

Bronn chuckled, shaking his head, “You still have a crush, after all this time? You could have any woman you wanted---”

“Not precisely a crush” Jaime replied with a frown. “And I don’t want _any_ woman, I want Sansa Stark.”

“You have a painting of her in your home office” Bronn countered. 

“So?”

“Alright” Bronn pulled his phone from his pocket. “I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you” Jaime tossed after him as he left, leaving Jaime to his musings. 

Pacing to the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, Jaime looked out over the city of Lannisport with an exhausted sigh. 

When he was just a young man, he decided that he did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps of merely trading in real estate, he wanted to _build_ real estate. Churches, skyscrapers, homes, he wanted to design them and bring them to life. He had worked hard, studied hard and now at 43 he was _the_ man to find if you wanted to build any sort of historical home. Gothic. Victorian. Mid-Century. Bungalow. Anything historical he could build. 

Nearly two years ago he had heard that one of the most famous mid-century homes in the city was going to be on the market and he had pursued it without pause until he could call it his own. It had once belonged to famed playboy Barristan Selmy, a man who made a damned good living in erotic magazines, tasteful pinup photography and nude modeling. 

Jaime had snatched up the house before anyone could counter his offer and then he set about restoring the home to its former glory. Blood, sweat, tears and more swear words than he could count went into it and now his escape, his _home_ was being pursued by every architectural and historic magazine you could name. 

What did he expect, Bronn had laughed. When the world’s most famous architect bachelor bought the world's most prolific bachelor pad. 

Smirking to himself he wished he could see the look on Sansa Stark’s face when she found out who was calling for her. 

He had met her nearly a year ago at a charity benefit in King’s Landing, all of the ‘big names’ turning out to support disaster relief after a fire had swept through a large portion of the city. She had been standing on the red carpet in front of him and he was so taken with her beauty that he didn’t realize he had been staring. 

Sansa Stark was _the_ name in the modeling and high fashion world, her tall curvy frame making her the perfect woman for any sort of vintage or retro look. Her rich, fiery hair was one-of-a-kind and she carried herself with confidence that could never be taught, only genetic. He had girded himself to approach her inside and when he asked her to dinner she had leaned forward with a smirk and told him that she wouldn’t be another notch on his bed frame. 

Disappointed though he was, he couldn’t blame her. Before her he had quite the reputation, one had hadn’t thought twice about until a woman he was genuinely interested in him turned him down flat because of it. After her uninvited wake-up call he had focused on his home, throwing every ounce of energy he could into making it the best possible version it could be. 

Admittedly, he had indulged himself in decorating his home office and behind his desk hung a very large portrait of Sansa Stark clad only in a black silk bed sheet, her fiery hair spread around her like a halo. It had been painted in the style of Marilyn Monroe and while there was no nudity, it was still the sexiest image he had ever seen. It was a 1 of 1 piece created for a silent auction and he had not stopped until it was his. 

She was his sinful indulgence and if he had to have a woman in his home, it might as well be one that is already there. Maybe this time he would have a chance to ask her to dinner once again. 

Smiling to himself, he moved back to his desk, his mind playing over all the reactions she would have to seeing him once again. 

Sansa nearly instructed the car to turn around for the hundredth time as they approached the secluded, guarded estate of Jaime Lannister. Her agent, Jeyne, had approved the VERY lucrative photoshoot before checking with Sansa and now she found herself heading to the home of the very man she had desperately tried _not_ to think about every day for over a year. 

When Sansa had tried to refuse, Jeyne pleaded and explained to her how fantastic it would be to see the Selmy mansion as it had been admired in the 30’s to 70’s. It was the dream of every pinup model turned mainstream model to see the inside of the legendary home and now Sansa would get to see it for herself. 

It was nearly the crack of dawn and all she could do was watch the trees go by, resisting the urge to smile. Growing up she had always been more fascinated with vintage fashion than modern. She loved the old fashioned dresses, lingerie and makeup so much that she had started to emulate her Grandmother Minisa at a young age. Her mother, Catelyn had thought it was a phase, a passing whimsy, but Sansa could not be deterred, her love of vintage had stuck. 

At age 17 she found herself dating the high-school bad boy, an overly tall, muscular man named Sandor and he had a 1960 Pontiac that made her heart sing. He had understood her love of the forgotten, they had celebrated it together. He took pride in showing off his car at local events and shows and she loved attending with him. Soon, however, most of the pictures of his car had her on the hood or fender and then suddenly modeling agencies were tracking her down. 

Countless articles and stories later she had somehow made the jump from pinup to fashion model, Sandor breaking her heart along the way. He had been her first, her only, and she had steered clear of men, especially dangerously gorgeous men, since then. 

She was famous enough to write her own ticket now, so they told her, and somehow she found herself pulling into the Selmy-Lannister mansion, her heart racing with nerves. Jaime had never managed to escape her thoughts, and now after all this time she still wanted him, terribly so...

“Miss Stark” an older dark haired man opened the door as the town car parked. “I am Bronn, Jaime’s---Mr. Lannister’s right hand. Welcome and thank you for coming.” 

“Of course” she lied smoothly. How else was she supposed to say she had been tricked. “Thank you for having me.”

“It is our honor, I assure you,” he assured her and escorted her to the hair and makeup team that would be helping her today. 

“I brought an array of clothing, lingerie, fitting the instructions” she motioned to her driver, Davos, who was seeing to the items. 

“Perfect, I will let them know,” he replied. “I believe we’re to start in the office, and from there move to the kitchen and master bath.”

“Master bath?” she narrowed her eyes. 

“A famous location, I am assured,” he replied. “Mr. Lannister has done all he could to keep it original.”

“I see” she nodded, wondering what the hells Jeyne had gotten her into. 

“I will see you shortly” he gave a nod and then she was at the whim of the beauty team. 

For nearly two hours they worked, curling, contouring, highlighting and then helping her into the sleek black vintage lingerie and red dress she had brought. The dress had cost her a pretty penny and she treasured it more than anything. Once her sky-high heels were in place they walked her through the stunning home to the large office where the photographer had set up. 

The beauty of the home was overwhelming. Jaime had truly done a fantastic job keeping true to the Selmy roots.

As she entered the office, her eyes, however, immediately found Jaime Lannister standing tall in the corner and looking more sinful than ever. He wore a wonderfully vintage suit in a plaid pattern, his beard and hair unruly as always. He looked up as she entered and she felt pinned by his emerald stare, the bright eyes so full of lust and promise it nearly undid her. 

She had regretted turning him down when they first met, but she knew that if he had asked she would have thrown herself into his bed and become another on the long list he had seduced. Deep down she knew she deserved more than that, she wanted more than that. Before she learned that he was working exclusively on the Selmy mansion she had felt bad that he disappeared after they spoke, all media coverage of him ceasing to exist. 

“Miss. Stark” he greeted her with that roguish smile, raising a glass of whisky he had poured. 

“Mr. Lannister” she countered with a smirk of her own. 

“Welcome to my home” he continued but when she looked over his shoulder she felt the breath leave her body. There, above his perfectly mid-century teak desk, was a painting of her. Not just any painting but one she had been told sold for a hefty sum to a private collector. Indeed, she noted, Jaime Lannister had purchased the most scantily clad piece she had ever done and hung it in his private sanctuary. Curious indeed. 

“For this first set I am thinking, Mr. Lannister at his desk and then Ms. Stark you will be perched on the edge” Varys, the photographer broke into their moment and Jaime could only listen as the man gave instructions. 

He had seen her eyes go wide as she noticed the painting that sat behind his desk, consuming nearly the entire wall, but he hadn’t had a chance to speak before the photographer cut in. Varys was well known in the art-photography world and Jaime could only hope that he would do his home justice. 

He followed the man’s instructions and sat at his large teak desk as Sansa moved to lean against the side beside him, facing him. She was the picture of vintage beauty, from her bright, fiery mane to the sinful red of her lips, she was incredible. 

He had been pleasantly surprised when Bronn informed him that she had actually showed up for the shoot. She was here, in his home. Finally...

He was distracted when she perched on the edge of his desk and crossed her sinfully long legs, the tight red of her dress riding up to hint at the black thigh-high cuban heel stockings she wore. This was a mistake, he thought to himself, he wasn’t going to survive the day without coming in his trousers. He was already counting down from a thousand to keep his cock at bay. 

“Perfect” Varys moved back and quickly captured a few shots. There was a pause as Varys adjusted lighting but Jaime could not look away from the siren on his desk. Idly he wondered how he would ever work here again knowing that she hat sat there, the full curve of her ass taking up residence on his workspace. 

She played the naughty housewife part perfectly, seemingly unfazed as she arched, leaned and stared at him with lust. 

It’s an act, he told himself, but Gods did he want to believe it. Sure she was nearly 18 years his junior, but he wanted her still. Wanted her with a passion he could not describe. 

“Ms. Stark if you could lean down on your elbow, here” Varys instructed her and Sansa obeyed, leaning onto his desk so that her hip and elbow held her up. “And hand here” he helped her to place her hand on Jaime’s arm that held the whisky tumblr. In the photograph he imagined it would like like a wife was pleading to her husband to set the drink aside and imbibe in her instead and he had to grind his teeth to control his body. 

She moved again and Jaime barely stifled a groan as she was displayed before him. She was everything he could have imagined and more, down to the fire in her eyes. 

“Perfect” Vayrs moved forward once more and Jaime hadn’t even realized the man had snapped more photographs. “A leg here” he instructed and Sansa found herself facing Jaime with a high heel on the arm of his chair. “Mr. Lannsiter put your hand here” Varys motioned to Sansa’s knee and he obeyed. 

Alone once more, Sansa’s bright blue eyes glittered down at him as his hand trailed up her inner knee and thigh, smoothing over the black stockings that he could now clearly see were held up by a garter belt. 

“Breathe, Jaime” her teasing voice reached him and he looked up from her thighs to meet her gaze once more. 

“You’re a vixen” he whispered. 

“You asked for this” she cautioned. “Be a big boy and keep your cock at bay.”

“No promises” he countered as Varys snapped away. 

Sansa took several deep breaths as she changed from the red dress to a second black dress, this one slightly less modest and in the 1940’s style, a post-war piece she had made herself. The echo of Jaime’s hand on her inner knee and thigh would haunt her, the chills racing over her skin at the awe in his emerald eyes ---

“Ms. Stark” an assistant interrupted her. “Are you ready?”

“Of course, just one second” she replied with pasted-on smile and when the girl was gone Sansa looked to the white lace apron once more. ‘Housewife’ it screamed at her, and that was what she was about to be, at least on film. Jaime Lannister’s housewife, she laughed to herself, what an oddly contradictory thought. 

Moving back from the mirror a makeup assistant touched up her red lipstick before Sansa made her way down the hall and into the most stunningly vintage kitchen she had ever seen. It was bright, beautiful perfection and in the middle of it all was Jaime. 

“What a lovely apron” his deep voice taunted and she couldn’t help but smile, turning her back to the undone ties. 

“Tie me up?” she smirked over her shoulder as he swallowed deeply and tied the sides of her apon into a slightly askew bow. 

“So we have this lovely roasted turkey” Varys’ voice once again broke into their moment and Sansa listened as the photographer gave them both the rundown. The mid-century kitchen table had been set as if they were expecting guests but Jaime was sitting at the head of the table alone. Picking up the turkey she moved to his side, exaggerating her bend as she placed it on the table. 

She looked to Jaime as Varys snapped away, the flash bulbs going off around them. His green eyes seemed to light with mirth and then she felt his warm palm on her leg once more, this time travelling up her inner thigh to the juncture of her stockings and her bare flesh. 

“You devious bastard” she smiled brightly as she looked at him but he only smirked, his warm thumb teasing her leg. 

“Perfection” Varys declared as he continued snapping. 

Sansa leaned forward to grab a napkin from the table, her picture-perfect smile in place as she tucked it, roughly, into Jaime’s neckline, grabbing his thin tie to choke him, “You did this on purpose,” she whispered, leaning closely to his face. 

“Absolutely” he countered, meeting her stare. “Look at you, you’re glorious.”

“Yes!” Varys continued shooting. 

Suddenly Sansa found herself across his lap, her stocking-clad legs in the air as Jaime held her in an intimate embrace. She clung to Jaime’s neck as the camera continued around them. This man, she noted for the hundredth time, was dangerous. She kept his eyes on his face as one of his hands shot out to grab a wine glass from the table and he held it to her lips. To the camera it would look as if they were a loving domestic couple, a husband feeding his wife and giving her rich wine. 

“Perfect!” Varys’ voice had them startling apart, Jaime setting the wine glass aside as she sat up on his lap. As she moved however, she felt the tell-tale length of his erect cock against her ass. 

_Oh_ she gasped softly. _I see_ she went to move from his lap but instead ground against him in the most delicious way. She heard his sharp intake of breath and his groan as his fingers dug into her thigh. 

“Two can play this game” she whispered as she finally stood from his lap and moved to change for the last set of the day. 

Jaime changed from the plaid suit that they had him in to a crisp black turtleneck and tweed pants, once again handing him a tumbler of whiskey. To the photography assistant’s chagrin he drank it in a single go and they had to refill it. He didn’t care for their exasperation, he was more focused on keeping his cock hidden, the damned thing was hard enough to pound nails and Sansa Stark was entirely to blame. 

“Master bathro---”

“I know” he cut the assistant off, taking several deep breaths. When he had bought the historic home he wasn’t ignorant to Selmy’s legendary sex life and the over-sized clawfoot tub in the master bathroom. Jaime had the original tub restored and re-enameled, so it dominated the modern bathroom and soon he would share the space with Sansa. 

“Fuck” he muttered, tempted to drain his whiskey glass once more. 

Instead he walked down the short hall to the bathroom where Varys was adjusting his lighting. The bathtub was filled and overflowing with thick bubbles, the scent of lavender in the air, thick and heady. 

“Alright” another assistant helped Sansa into the room, the tall woman in a terry robe that was soon discarded and then she was in a simple nude colored strapless swimsuit, one he only caught a brief glimpse of before she was helped into the tub. Her hair, previously down had been pinned up on her head, a riot of curls that bared the slender column of her throat and the curve of her shoulder. 

“Mr. Lannister if you could lean here” Varys helped Jaime to lean against the bathroom counters facing Sansa. “Think ‘indulgent husband watching his wife in a bubble bath’, yeah?” Varys instructed and Jaime could have swallowed his tongue turning to look at Sansa. 

As Varys began shooting she held his gaze and raised a single, bare porcelain leg from the bubbles, reaching out to run her red nails down the flesh. He couldn’t stop himself from licking his lips at the motion, her blue eyes dark with lust and the long limb more tempting than any he had ever seen. 

“Perfect” Varys kept shooting and soon Jaime had turned to set his tumbler aside to refocus on Sansa. 

With a smile on her vibrant red lips she stretched her arms above her head before she lowered them to the bubbles, blowing the froth from her palms before her laugh filled the space. 

He watched her intently and before he realized it he was standing over the tub, no longer against the cabinets, and she was smiling up at him. 

“Jaime” she crooked a finger, beckoning him closer and he leaned over the tub, bracing his hands on each side and bringing his face closer to hers. 

“Minx” he whispered. 

“But Jaime” she trailed a hand over the beard on his cheek before it abruptly firsted in the front of his turtleneck. “You look so dry” she quipped before she yanked him forward. Falling off-balance he stumbled into the tub with her, the water and bubbles splashing around them as Varys continued to take photos. 

“I’m not the one who is supposed to be wet, darling” he straddled her in the tub, one hand still braced on the edge, the other moving over the warm flesh of her thigh and hip beneath the water. 

“You two are perfect!” Varys added. 

“Perfect” she raised a red brow with a smirk. “I don’t know, you feel ...limp to me.”

“I’ll give you limp” he slid a hang beneath her hips and pulled her up against the hard length of him. Above the water it would look PG but he was seconds from fucking her in front of the entire crew. 

“Jaime” she whispered, their mouths moving closer. 

“Stay” he asked her. “After they’ve gone, stay with me.”

“I’ll stay” she leaned closer with a smile. 

He moved to meet her but the second before their lips could meet Varys’ voice echoed in the space, “That’s a wrap folks! Great work!”

Abruptly Jaime pulled back, but she held his turtleneck firm and they were left to stare at each other in the cooling water of the tub as the crew packed up around them. 

Sansa had removed her makeup and brushed out the victory rolls from her hair and yanked it into a ponytail before she pulled on her jeans and baggy t-shirt, a staple of traveling to and from photoshoots. With a final glance in the mirror she made her way back to the state of the art kitchen to find Jaime in equally faded jeans and an old sweater, cooking at the stove. 

They had spent the entire day locked in an odd sort of foreplay, both of them teasing and touching each other while the entire crew watched, but now they were alone. Varys and his team were gone, she had sent her driver home. It was just the two of them in the stately mansion he had restored. 

“I hope you’re hungry” Jaime’s voice reached her and she turned to see him smiling as he tossed something on the stove. 

“We missed lunch,” she noted, moving closer. 

“Oh I know” he chuckled. “I am starving.”

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, moving around the kitchen island to his side. 

“Chicken stir-fry” he replied with a smirk. 

“That’s my favorite” she mused. 

“I know” he laughed, meeting her surprised gaze. “Don’t be so shocked, Sansa, you shot me down fairly hard over a year ago, I have changed a lot since then.”

“So you found out my favorite dinner to what? Seduce me?”

“To cook for you” he corrected her. “There are no expectations here” he assured her. “While I know the sexual tension between us is palpable, I am grateful just to spend time with you.”

“Who are you?” she laughed softly. “Surely not Jaime Lannister.”

“Jaime Lannister” he nodded, stirring the wok. “Architect, lover of all things old-fashioned and a man passionately in lust with you” he smirked. 

“That’s why you have the painting then” she asked. 

“I’ve had that for some time,” he noted. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sansa.”

“It sold before you asked me to dinner, at the benefit,” she mused. 

“I had it then” he acknowledged. “Had you googled you would have seen many photographs of me gaping at you on the red carpet. I am thankful you have not.”

She was silent for several moments as she watched him. He looked so at home here, so unlike any playboy she had ever seen. It had thrown her for a loop, being so close to him all day and she needed to be careful or she would lose her heart. 

“Why me?” she asked quietly as he pulled the pans from the stove and plated their food. 

“You have a scar on your left hip, an injury perhaps,” he reasoned. “But you have never asked for it to be removed digitally. You are unapologetically yourself, comfortable in your own skin and you’re damned beautiful” he motioned to the wine and carried their plates to the table. “I wanted to get to know you, you who seemed so real in a world of plastic and fillers. You understand a love of the past but you’re entirely modern. Is that so bad?”

“I suppose not” she agreed, carrying the wine and their glasses to the table as they sat. “I am not a one-night-stand type of girl, Jaime.”

“I am not a ‘nail and bail’ man anymore,” he assured her. “I haven’t been for a long time.” 

“Alright” she poured them each a glass of wine before raising her own. “To first dates” he cautiously said. 

He smiled widely, picking up his glass, “To first dates.”

“Ow, fuck” she laughed loudly as the light switch on the wall dug into her back. 

“Sorry” he laughed apologetically before moving her from the wall and miraculously into the doorway of the master bedroom. She returned to kissing him deeply, their bodies so intuned after a year of being together that it was as effortless as breathing. 

The day 'Architectural Digest’ had hit shelves with them on the cover and on 20 pages inside, their secrecy had been blown and the entire world knew they were an item. Varys had managed to capture their sexual tension, their utter compatibility and them falling in love with that magical lens of his. The world had eaten it up and demanded more, overwhelming them. 

Their first dinner together, she had seen a side of him that had captured her heart and from that night on, they were inseparable. She saw through all of the suits and facade to see _him_ and she was hooked. 

Her back hit the mattress of their bed and she sighed as his hands traveled over her body before finding the zipper at her back. 

They had been to another benefit gala, this time one at the request of his father, the illustrious Tywin Lannister, the feared Great Lion of Lannisport. While the public at large had immediately opened their arms to Jaime and Sansa as a couple, Tywin had been more reluctant. He had assumed that Jaime would tire of her but when Jaime had slid a ring on the third finger of her left hand, everything had changed. Suddenly she was a ‘Lannister’.

She whimpered as he pulled back from their kiss, pulling her dress from her body as he trailed kisses over her shoulder, sternum and stomach as he peeled the material away. 

“Jaime---shit” she cried out as he tossed aside her dress and managed to undo her stockings with his mouth, nuzzling against her core before undoing the opposite side. The man’s tongue was a wonder of the world, she could testify to that. 

He shoved her thighs wide and soon his face was buried in her pussy, lapping and teasing her folds like a man starved. Her hand tunneled into his overly long blonde hair, a style she loved, and held him against her as he devoured her. 

Soon she was whimpering, crying his name into the master bedroom they now shared. He held her pinned, a sacrifice to the pleasure his mouth could provide and when she came, screaming his name he did not relent until she begged. 

“Jaime!” 

He pulled back with a smirk, his hair falling over his forehead until he tossed it away, “Mine” he laughed, both of their hands setting about removing the last layers of clothing until she was pulling him beneath her and she sank onto his hard length. 

“Shit” he hissed, gripping her hips tightly. 

“Come on baby” she taunted. “Don’t give up on me just yet.”

“Be nice or I’ll bend you over that dresser and fuck you senseless” he warned her and she laughed, rocking against him. 

“It's your birthday” she smiled. “I should be taking care of you.”

“Gods” he groaned as she rode him, her hands travelling to her abundant breasts, holding and teasing the peaks. 

“My ‘old’ man” she moaned as she took her pleasure. 

“You’ll be the death of me” he wrapped an arm around her and rolled her beneath him. Her long legs wrapped around him and in the next instant he was fucking her roughly, deeply, claiming every inch he could. 

The first time they had had sex he knew he was in trouble. He was immediately addicted and desperate for more. Luckily she felt the same and soon they were falling all over each other at every opportunity. He knew a month into dating her that he was going to marry her and when she said ‘Yes’ as he waited on bended knee a few months later he could have cried. 

“Jaime” she gasped, holding onto the headboard as he took her, her full breasts bouncing with each movement. 

“Come for me” he urged her, his deep voice sending shivers over her skin. “Gods, I need you to come..”

“Harder” she begged and soon only his growls and the bang of the teak headboard against the wall filled the room. She held him as tightly as she could, but soon her body bowed, arched and contracted beneath him, “Jaime!” she gasped then cried out as her body clenched around his once more. His own groan filled the room and then he was relaxing above her, his face nuzzled into her neck as he panted for breath. 

“I love you, you vixen” he laughed softly, kissing along the line of her jaw. 

“I love you, you arrogant man” she teased. 

“Your arrogant man” he kissed her softly. “A week from today I am going to marry you.” 

“You’ll be stuck with me,” she countered, nuzzling his beard. 

“That’s my plan,” he assured her, pulling her against his side to snuggle her. She had been surprised to learn that he was a snuggler, but she loved every second she spent in his arms. 

“Forever” she sighed. 

“Forever” he agreed. 

The world would always remember the day that Sansa Stark married Jaime Lannister. It had been the celebrity wedding of the year but it had also been iconic in its vintage imagery. Her tea-length gown, a replica of her grandmother’s and his suit, identical to his father’s, complimented each other perfectly. It had been elegant, understated and perfect. 

They had married in a small, private ceremony but then he had surprised her with a 1940 Dodge Sedan in a deep, piano black, whispering that it was hers in the same moment they slid into the backseat to make their way to their reception. She had shed tears of happiness as their car carried them to their wedding celebration. 

Their wedding photos had been in every publication imaginable, but their marriage itself was private, both of them living as themselves together. They could exist together and that in its own was an escape, they discovered. 

When it became unable to be hidden any longer, a year after their marriage, Sansa and Jaime arrived at a benefit together, her hand cupping the swell of their child as she made her way inside the event. Jaime was every inch the doting husband, always at her side, helping her before she could even ask. 

While some wept at the permanent loss of ‘Jaime Lannister, Bachelor’, others swooned over ‘Jaime Lannister, husband and father’. Their son, Damon, found himself the apple of his parents' eyes and also the love of the people at large, his Lannister good looks enchanting the world. 

Sansa moved back from modeling full-time to care for their son. Damon was the light of her world and she adored being a mother. As she stepped back, offers to work with fashion designers moved in and soon she was able to work from a home in a spare room her husband repurposed for her, her son on her hip. 

One day she hoped they would add a daughter to their family but she would warmly accept whatever the Gods would give them. 

“Sansa” Jaime’s voice called down the hall and she turned from her desk to see him as he entered the office. “Gods you’re beautiful” he marvelled, moving forward to pull her in for a deep, loving kiss. 

“Damon’s asleep” she smiled, pulling at his tie. 

“Is he now” Jaime lifted her, settling her onto the drafting table. 

“Mmhmm” she shoved his jacket from his shoulders. 

“Good. We can practice for another then” he smirked. 

“Practice” she shook her head. “Just shut up and give me another baby, you arrogant man.”

“Yes ma’am” he smiled, pulling her into his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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